Dangerously Sweet

by Angela Evans

  Almost as if on cue the muscle in his upper thigh spasmed and threatened to cramp. Mindlessly he rubbed it with the heel of his hand just as he had done every day for the last month while he lied to his boss and insisted he was ready to come back to work. He was fine and he knew he was ready, but damn this ache in his thigh was starting to get old. He needed to get back to work to take his mind off of it. And yes, he did realize how totally fucking back-asswards that was.

  Distraction was exactly what he got when a woman suddenly filled the open doorway, momentarily blocking the humid Florida air as she climbed in, and the driver closed the door behind her. Hair the color of a sunset cascaded down over her shoulder partially concealing her face; he could see her mouth with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and nothing else until she found a seat opposite him and looked up. Oh yes, she was definitely a distraction, but not the good kind. The kind that would have him panting down the beach behind her begging her to distract him all the way to her bed. Not something he considered a good idea while his mother was within earshot. He was here to walk his mother down the aisle, and get the hell out of Barefoot Bay for good.

  His idea of paradise had nothing to do with sandy beaches or posh resorts. Actually he had no idea what his idea of paradise was, but it didn’t matter because this next week was about his mom’s long overdue happiness, and for her he was willing to suck it up and put on a happy face.

  “Oh!” Her pretty mouth formed a perfect O as she gasped when her eyes adjusted to the interior of the car enough to see him clearly. Yeah, he might look a little rough. Probably should have taken time to shave before he headed for the airport, but since he hadn’t actually wanted to come, it was one more subtle way to let his family know he was here under protest. Childish? Yes. Too bad, he thought with a mental shrug.

  He watched as she nervously fanned herself with her flannel shirt; the shirt was obviously too warm for the Florida heat as were her blue jeans and boots. Lifting her hair, she let the cool air blow on her neck with obvious relief.

  “Blake Dexter. My friends call me Dex,” he introduced himself.

  “Amelia Barton,” she responded, not releaing her hair as she spoke. He noted the pink blush on her cheeks from the temperature.

  “Why don’t you lose the shirt?” he asked, earning him an arched eyebrow. “It’s obvious you’re wearing a tank top under that shirt you’re melting in. Lose the flannel. This is Florida. A tank top is as accepted as a bikini top most places.”

  “Did you seriously just ask me to take my top off two seconds after laying eyes on me? That’s impressive, I gotta say.” She didn’t look impressed; she looked pissed. And hot.

  “I guess I did.” He grinned. “But you have to admit, it’s a solid idea. You obviously dressed for somewhere other than Florida when you left the house this morning. It’s either ditch the flannel top, or stew in your own sweat for the next hour while we drive to the resort.”

  “Oh God, do I really smell?” Now she looked embarrassed.

  “I did not say that.” Even he wasn’t that big of an ass.

  He watched as she struggled with the idea and common sense eventually won out. “Turn your head.”

  “You’re wearing a tank top,” he pointed out again.

  “I don’t care. I’m not taking my top off in front of someone I met ten seconds ago. Turn your head,” she demanded again, with an arched eyebrow and blue eyes daring him to challenge her.

  With a chuckle, he turned his head and stared out the window at the passing scenery while he listened to her tug the ridiculous flannel top free of her jeans; and damned if the sound of a woman undressing wasn’t a hundred times sexier than he’d have bet it would be. Absently he rubbed the throbbing thigh muscle that was now protesting he’d been sitting for far too long.

  “What’s wrong with your leg?” she asked and he returned his gaze to her to see her sitting in a fitted gray tank top with the flannel folded neatly beside her on the seat.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You’ve been rubbing your leg since I got in the car. It obviously aches.”

  “It’s fine,” he lied.

  From somewhere near her feet the sound of a buzzing cell phone filled the interior of the car. Amelia fished inside her bag and retrieved her phone. Glancing at the screen she rolled her eyes and sent the call to voice mail before dropping it unceremoniously back into her bag.

  “Boyfriend or husband?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Excuse me?” she replied with another arched eyebrow aimed directly at him.

  “Ignored call, you’re not dressed for a vacation, no luggage…that tells me you’re on the run from someone. Boyfriend or husband?” He repeated the question with what he considered flawless logic.

  “Are you a cop or are you just nosy?” she countered.

  “Guilty as charged, I’m nosy.” He couldn’t help but laugh; eighteen months of deep undercover assignment had him reluctant to reveal himself as a cop to a stranger. Even a stranger who looked like a wet dream and was more fun to talk to than anyone he’d met in months.

  They rode in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before she spoke again. “I’m not on the run, I’m just…giving myself some space to figure things out.”

  “Okay,” he replied, secretly hoping he was wrong and there wasn’t a man in her life.

  “Fiancé.”

  Shit, he thought.

  “Or rather, I guess…ex-fiancé would be a better description.”

  Dex couldn’t fight the grin. Maybe this trip to paradise might be a little fun after all.

  Chapter Two

  Everything in Barefoot Bay was too damned beautiful. Too tranquil. Too peaceful. It was making him edgy. Dex didn’t stop to examine the reasoning behind why he’d feel more comfortable in a drug den than he felt in a luxury resort and what it might say about his boss being right. He didn’t want to think about being burned out. He didn’t want to think about anything.

  Well, he wouldn’t mind thinking about Amelia Barton a little, or even a lot. Being with her, even just riding in a car with her, had been the most relaxing thing he’d done in…well, he couldn’t even remember a time he’d been that relaxed. He’d managed to casually ask the woman from housekeeping, who had come by to drop off clean towels and tidy up the bungalow his mother and her fiancé had rented for the week, where Amelia was staying. As luck would have it, she was staying in the only bungalow he could see from the window in his bedroom. He stood at the window now, drinking coffee and staring at the other cabana.

  The coffee made sense, because sleep was not his friend these days. Between waking up stiff, with a muscle cramp in his damn thigh, and the nightmares, he would just as soon stay awake. He’d laid down earlier thinking maybe a new setting would mean a new experience and finally some restful sleep. He’d woken up drenched in sweat with a scream trapped in his throat. Luckily his family had gone for a walk on the beach or he would have had some serious explaining to do. What could he really say? Oh, sorry…I had a nightmare about the car accident that killed a punk drug dealer I thought I could save, and nearly killed me in the process. No, that probably wouldn’t have gone over very well with his mother or his sisters.

  He pulled himself away from the window, determined to stop staring like a teenage boy mooning after the new girl on his block, and went towards the kitchen at the back of the bungalow. His family would be back soon; more family time, more shameful looks tossed his way because even his mother and sisters didn’t know he was undercover. He’d been under so long he wasn’t sure if it really was a cover anymore. There was a saying around the precinct that you couldn’t spend all your time around the worst society offered and not have part of that rub off on you. He’d spent every moment for the last year and a half around the worst of the worst. There had been more than a few moments where he’d questioned how much that time had changed him and if it was worth it in the end. Most importantly he questioned if when the assignment was over coul
d he really go back to living a regular life.

  Behind him he heard the door open and the sound of his family laughing as they came in from exploring the beach together. He’d begged off and stayed behind. Every time his mother looked at him, he could feel the shame in her eyes. The silent wish he’d straighten his life out and get a real job. He wished he could reassure her he was actually one of the good guys, but her knowing the truth put her at too much risk. He’d take all the chances he needed to with his own life, but there was no way he’d put his family in danger.

  “Dex? Are you here?” his mother called out as she walked in the kitchen.

  “Where else would I go, Mom?” he asked with a grin.

  “Don’t you sass me.” She laughed and gave him a hug. It felt like the hundredth time she had hugged him since he arrived. It was like she was trying to make up for lost time, for all the months she’d not been able to hug him because she hadn’t known where he was.

  “I’m not sassing you, I’m just stating the obvious.” He gave her an affectionate squeeze just as her fiancé Marco walked in and smiled at him.

  “My beautiful bride is happy to have you here, and that makes me happy to have you here.” Marco had told him as soon as he arrived. “Stop squeezing that boy to death and get changed so we can go eat! I’m starving remember?” Marco teased Patrice and threw in a wink to soften his words. It was clear to Dex Marco not only made his mother happy, something she definitely deserved, but that he worshiped her. That was all Dex needed to give his stamp of approval on their vows.

  “Go eat, Mom. I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” She was so excited to have him here, it almost broke his heart. “Your sisters will come too! It’ll be like a big family dinner. Just like when you were kids.”

  “Except we never went to restaurants when we were kids,” his sister Naomi chimed in from the doorway. She was closest to Dex in age and the two of them had always been close.

  “Or had big family dinners,” Dex added. Growing up, macaroni and cheese had been their idea of fancy dinners. More often than not they were scraping to get by until his mom could bring home a paycheck from one of her three jobs. Once their dad had left, Dex had gotten a paper route, worked at the corner grocery store, and done anything else he could do to help put food on the table. It was part of why his family bought the cover story so easily. He’d always been willing to do just about anything to make a few bucks because he’d had to be.

  “We had family dinners,” his mom retorted defensively. “We always had a ham on Christmas!”

  “Mom, I’m pretty sure most people don’t have a ham from those little plastic packets of lunch meat for Christmas dinner.” His youngest sister, Francine, joined in the teasing now.

  “I did the best I could,” his mom said with her eyes brimming with tears. They’d gone too far, he realized as Marco put his arms around their mom and pulled her close.

  “Mom, we all know you did the best you could. You did better than anyone would have expected under the circumstances.” He gave his mom a comforting pat on the shoulder as he felt that slow-burning anger in his gut begin to creep back in. After his dad had left them, he’d married a series of blondes who were all half his age, usually had more money than he could ever have dreamed of making, and had no interest in playing the role of stepmother to his children. He couldn’t speak for his sisters, but he hadn’t spoken to the son of a bitch in years, and he didn’t intend to change that anytime soon. He certainly hadn’t attended any of his multiple weddings.

  His mom on the other hand had been alone since their marriage ended. She’d worked three and four jobs while raising three kids. Dex didn’t know how she’d done it, and she’d done it well, too. All three of her kids had turned out great.

  Only, his mother didn’t know that.

  * * *

  Amelia couldn’t believe the beauty of her private bungalow at Casa Blanca Resort. The pictures in the bridal magazine had truly not done it justice. As she walked through, she couldn’t help but touch each luxurious surface from the kitchen countertops, to the duvet covering the massive bed, to the most plush bath towels she had ever seen in her life. Tossing her way-too-warm flannel on the foot of the bed, she was tempted to peel off her jeans and hop right into the shower. Any idea of that disappeared from her mind as she glanced out the folding glass doors and saw the private pool at the back of the bungalow. The pool was completely surrounded either by fence or lush plants. No one could see or would even know she was out there; and with that thought, a heavenly idea took shape.

  Growing up in the back woods of Alaska, she had been skinny dipping more times than she could count. Usually in a stream or a pond, but she had an idea this pool would be more refreshing than any of those had ever been. Slipping off her jeans, she left them in a pile at her feet just inside the glass door. Stopping only to grab a towel, she stepped out the door while slipping her tank top over her head. The balmy Florida air surrounded her and the setting sun was still warm on her skin. Wearing just her matching pink bra and panties, she stepped down the wide staircase, feeling the cool water surround her calves and then her thighs before she submerged herself completely. Underwater, she marveled at the shocking temperature change from overheated to chilled. Goosebumps covered her from head to toe as her hair swirled loose around her, floating up towards the surface as she rested on the bottom of the pool. For a moment she reveled in the total silence that surrounded her. She hadn’t realized until just then that silence, space, and calm were what she’d been craving; what she’d been looking for when she threw her clothes in a suitcase and headed to the airport.

  Space to think, silence to hear her own thoughts. That’s what had been missing from her life. Someone was always talking to her, telling her what to do, what to think, what to feel. Her life had taken on a force of its own and she needed to wrestle control back. The first step was cancelling the wedding that, if she was truthful with herself, she wasn’t convinced she had ever wanted to happen. She’d taken the coward’s way out and gone along for the ride. Realizing Jeffery was no more in love with her than she was with him had been the wakeup call. Realizing he was a lying, conniving, cheating bastard had spurred her into action.

  Pushing off the bottom of the pool, she followed her own air bubbles to the surface. The quiet sounds of Barefoot Bay trickled back in; birds chirping, people passing by her bungalow on the beach, but still those were distant sounds not intruding on her thoughts. Kicking back, she floated on the surface of the pool feeling the sun kissing her skin, knowing her freckles were multiplying by the second, but not caring. Her arms floating out on either side of her body, she opened her eyes and looked at the impossibly blue sky. Completely and totally relaxed for the first time in far too long, she just soaked in the moment.

  A man clearing his throat startled her back to the present as she shrieked and pulled her body beneath the meager concealment of the water. Blake Dexter stood just inside the gate, making no effort to hide the fact he liked everything he had just seen, which was pretty much…well, everything!

  “What are you doing!?” she gasped.

  * * *

  This had been a mistake. That was the only thought echoing around inside of Dex’s brain as he spent three hours—a goddamn record—with his mother, his two cloying sisters, and his mother’s fiancé. Going straight from eighteen months of deep cover into spending a week in a resort with his family would have been too much to expect of a saint. And he was definitely not a saint!

  Every time he cursed, his mother made that disapproving sound with her tongue clicking against her teeth. Eighteen months with drug dealers and hookers hadn’t exactly brought out his softer side. If he even had one. A month ago he’d woken up in a hospital bed with a handcuff on his right wrist holding him prisoner. It hadn’t lasted long, but it was more than enough. Far too long later, his captain had finally showed up to fill him in on what was going on. They were pul
ling him out and nothing he could say would change their mind. He knew he was close, but Captain Morrison said things were getting too hot. They’d had someone sniffing around checking out Dex’s cover story, then the wreck had been too big of a coincidence to ignore. So he was out, at least until things cooled down a little.

  He’d had three weeks of recovery with a cop stationed outside his room guarding him and not even the cop knew which side of the law Dex was truly on. The right side. Always the right side. But always pretending to play for the other side in an effort to catch the worst of the worst doing what they did best. The plan had been for them to play the game to the hilt, take him out in cuffs, and stuff him in the paddy wagon so the crew he’d been chasing would think he was in prison and not go hunting for him.

  A week ago he knew for sure the crew had not taken the bait. The timing had seemed perfect; time to get out of town and let things cool down. By the time he got back from his mother’s wedding, no longer looking like a drug runner but rather looking like a clean cut, average guy, Captain Morrison promised him a new assignment. Until then he was stuck, and that’s exactly how he felt standing in the kitchen listening to everyone talk at once about flowers, cakes, and shoes, for chrissake. Who cared that much about any of those things?

  Standing in the middle of his family’s temporary home, Dex felt the uncontrollable urge to run. His thigh wasn’t up for a run yet, so he settled for a walk. “Ma, I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder as he headed out the door, across the expansive deck, and down to the warm sand beach. Looking up the beach and then down, he didn’t even hesitate. He walked in the direction he knew Amelia’s bungalow was located.

  He was trying to shift out of cop mode, but months of relying on instinct to keep himself alive meant relaxing and soaking in the scenery wasn’t coming easy for him. Morrison’s words came back to haunt Dex as he walked along the beach. Sure the coast was beautiful, the sky was that impossible shade of blue reserved for post cards and a beautiful woman’s eyes, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of edginess, of needing to watch his own ass because nobody else was going to do the job. Most cops worked with a partner, and their partner became that one person they could trust above everyone else; even a spouse. But since Dex had been so deep undercover his mother didn’t even know he was a cop, that meant no partner for him. No police contact except the captain who was also the chief of the task force Dex was assigned to.